


Slingshot's Archer

by shotbarrows



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:07:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23068966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shotbarrows/pseuds/shotbarrows
Summary: DARYL/CONNIE. Following Connie being trapped in the cave. Connie knows what she wants. Daryl is paralyzed by fear of loss.
Relationships: Connie & Daryl Dixon, Connie/Daryl Dixon
Comments: 9
Kudos: 51





	1. Acceptance

_**CONNIE** _

The days dragged on so long that Connie could hardly remember the moment the cave had collapsed anymore. Her stomach was on fire, mouth dry and body weak.

Not only were they starving, but the rocks had injured Magna's spine and so she couldn't walk on her own. Connie also had some bruises on her leg that made it painful.

They only had a bottle of warm water and some chocolate bars—they had only lasted three days with less-than-generous rationing. Now, there was nothing. Just darkness. They were hiding in a space in the cave away from whisperers and they hadn't been found yet. Connie felt herself becoming weaker and weaker. The faces of her family were blurry hues of familiarity. She hated it.

Her body was on fire. She only noticed now that she was actually starving. And with a few whisperers still roaming the cave, they couldn't extract any water.

Doomed, was what they were.

* * *

_**DARYL** _

There was only a slight pain in his leg where Alpha had cut him, now that they were days off from his attack. It was reckless, Daryl knew, and now he'd been bedridden for days, rendering himself useless and for what? He should've known that nothing would come of it. Except finding Lydia again. The only light in all that dark regret.

His throat was scratchy. Daryl pulled his legs over the side of the infirmary bed in Alexandria. He drank the water on the bedside table that was accompanied by another cup of pills. Aaron helped pull him to his feet. There was still pain, but not enough to keep him from doing what he needed to.

"Who was sent out today?" Daryl's voice was raspier than he'd ever heard it.

Aaron looked reluctant to speak, shifting uncomfortably.

Daryl looked behind him where Gabriel stood at the door. Both had odd looks. "The hell is going on?"

"We can't keep doing this." Gabriel said, unhinging himself from the wall. "I think it's time we start accepting it. If Magna and Connie were okay, we would've found them by now."

Anger surged through Daryl like electricity. It was only a matter of time until someone lost hope and screwed everything up.

"Man, you don't know _shit_." Daryl didn't know what he would've done when he lurched in Gabriel's direction, because he was stopped by Aaron.

"We don't have time for this." Aaron said. "Alpha is still out there with a _herd_. All of this arguing is useless."

"What's useless are these daily trips to those caves, sending our people out there—putting them in danger when there's a chance the whisperers could attack." Gabriel snapped. "We've done it before, and we can do it again— _acceptance_. We just have to accept it and move on."

"That ain't acceptance." Daryl grabbed the cup of pills and swallowed, slamming it on the table. "That's giving up. That's _bullshit_."

Daryl suppressed the image of her in his head. Usually when he thought of her, the thoughts of her pain and suffering were quick to follow. And he couldn't think like that. Or he'd end up like Gabriel.

"Think about it, Daryl." Gabriel said. "Dynamite _exploded_. The herd was moved out and we still _can't_ find them. If Alpha had them as hostages, we would know—that's the point of a hostage. We'd at least have a body, or body parts—"

"I _thought_ about it." Daryl yelled. "And they ain't dead. Just like we ain't dead. If I gotta go out there myself—"

"No, Daryl, you're weak." Aaron intercepted.

"I can walk." Daryl went to the wall and grabbed his crossbow, slinging the strap over his open vest and gripping it. "I'm going out with others. Screw your ' _acceptance_ '." And he walked past them.

* * *

_**CONNIE** _

Pain was all she could think about until it wasn't. Until she saw the cylindrical lusters of flashlights shooting back and forth and side to side in the cave. She was so weak, she was on the verge of passing out. And she thought she did.

She felt wetness at her lips and then in her mouth.

 _Drink it_. She saw Daryl's mouth form. _Daryl_. Was she dreaming?

She swore he was looming above in the darkness, dark brown hair over his forehead, wisps of a bear with dark-brown and even grey hairs. She felt him holding her, but his mouth's movements were only blurs.

Then she was above ground in the sunlight, limp and in Daryl's arms. She didn't remember much about it except the fact that she felt okay again and safe. That was when the relief had overridden the pain.

Now, she awoke in the infirmary of Alexandria. She blinked around. Daryl was gone. She was alone, minus an unconscious Magna with a sleeping Yumiko at her side. Connie's skin was bruised on her arms and legs. She got off the bed and looked at the wall mirror, the skin around her right eye was bruised purple and her lip was split bad. There were stitches done on her forehead.

Across the room in bed was Kelly; she was sleeping. Both of her legs were missing and some fingers. Connie had ran over and collapsed over her sister, trying to hold in her tears as she laid her head against her chest.

This was Alpha. With her sadness, there was anger. She bit her lip hard to keep herself from the thoughts, but she couldn't help it. She'd have to end her. She'd have to end Alpha.

* * *

_**DARYL** _

Daryl was in the barn cleaning his motorcycle when she entered. He didn't think he would have heard her if it weren't for her little strides against the hay. He stood upright, holding a greasy rag in his hands.

By her eye, her skin was bruised purple and burgundy, her lip was split and cracked. She wore the same clothes from the caves. Seemed she hadn't tidied up and instead came straight to find him.

With a gesture at her chin with one hand, she signed, 'Thank you.'

None of her bruises hid the faint spill of freckles over her nose. She had messed dusty curly hair.

The usual light in her eyes was gone, and he avoided her gaze, doing his best gesture of the sign, 'You're welcome,' before he turned and went back to his motorcycle with the rag, effectively ending their communication.

 _She was okay. Magna as well._ That was enough to know. Being with her, or celebrating it, just felt like a jinx—as it always was in the past. With his friends Rick and Beth, even Tyreese. Any moment that he enjoyed his family's safety—something happened. He wasn't falling for it again.

Daryl hoped she'd leave, but he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. Daryl faced her with question in his expression.

She looked like she wanted to say something, but then gave up completely. Signing, 'Nothing. Never-mind.'

Connie turned away with enough force that he knew she'd noticed his coldness, and the look in her eyes had been enough. Daryl stopped her by grabbing her hand and he felt her pause her stride without looking.

Now she looked at him. 'What?' Her sign was laced with mild irritancy.

His face burned and he dipped his head so she wouldn't see his emotion, sweeping her up in his arms and clutching her close to him. He knew she hadn't been expecting it—and he hadn't meant to. His eyes were filled as he squeezed her into him, her small form. It was the little things— her curls tickling his neck and skin warm against him—that relieved him. He felt her hands wrap over his back.

When he drew back, she was crying as well—eyes filled.

'Kelly.' She signed. 'What happened?'

He didn't know the signs for it, so he spoke his response with clear enunciation instead. "Whisperers attacked."

Connie's lips pressed together tightly. She had that look. The one he recognized all too well.


	2. Measure for Measure

**_DARYL_ **

Daryl watched her. She was across the street. He sat at one of the wooden picnic tables in the field with Carol. Connie was sitting on the steps of the infirmary—her temporary residence while she healed until her return to Hilltop—she was remedying the straps to her slingshot with a pile of rocks at her knee to test it out, he assumed.

Oscar was sitting beside her—he was a part of her group—Magna, Kelly, Yumiko, and Luke—and had been forever. They were deep in conversation. Daryl spied the same look from the former day on Connie's face.

"Staring?" Carol questioned. She was cleaning her gun as she spoke. "She's not going to disappear."

Daryl grunted in response, shifting in his seat. The sun was beating down on them hard and he also remedying his arrows. "It's not that."

"Then what is it?" Carol looked to Connie, squinting her eyes. "If you're worried that I'm—"

"It's not about you, either." Daryl cut in.

"And I'm glad for that." Carol said. The mending of their relationship had begun the day it had broken. He couldn't say he had complete trust in her again, but genuine hate and banishment was out of the question. "So, what is it, then?"

Daryl sharpened his arrowhead, eyes trained on Connie once more as he squinted past the sun.

"She's got that look."

"What look?"

"Alpha's responsible for Kelly. For the rest of her friends." Daryl told her. "You know the look. You know it better than anyone."

Carol scoffed. "She hasn't lost anyone."

"She may as well have." Daryl said. "Kelly won't be like she was before." He waited a moment to add, "Neither will she."

* * *

**_CONNIE_ **

She wasn't used to the grandeur of Alexandria—even as long as she'd known of it. It was almost like stepping back into the world before it had ended, until you saw the steel walls or heard the growls behind them.

She was surprised when she was invited for community dinner in Aaron's house. Now, as she pulled on some clean clothes—a strappy loose blouse and dark jeans—Oscar was with her.

He signed to her, 'When we leave for Hilltop tomorrow is when we'll discuss the plan for Alpha.'

Connie nodded quickly. 'You're sure about this?'

'The whisperers have done enough to us—now Magna, now Kelly, even you.' Oscar signed vigorously. ' _These_ people want us to just take it. Interesting how you're expected to behave when you're not _them_. We get Alpha ourselves.'

She didn't hear much of what he said, only nodding at: _We get Alpha_. Because Goddamn, it was what she deserved.

At Aaron's house, everyone stood around, dressed well. Despite the impending doom of the whisperers, they maintained their hope of getting out of the mess alive, and she was glad for that.

However, the idle-ness of that did not impress her. Connie had finished her dinner and leaned against the wall drinking a cup of punch courtesy of little Gracie. Daryl stood across the room in his usual garb—something dark, something frayed. Today it was his black vest over a stitched sleeve of dark-green-and-blue flannel and dark pants. His hair, as usual, hung dark and silky over the sides of his face and eyes which, she imagined, if she'd been closer, would be supremely blue.

Daryl was thumbing his small wisps of a beard, leaned against the wall, just watching the conversation between Aaron, Carol, and Gabriel.

She'd been watching him when Oscar approached with a drink in hand. He tapped her to look at him as he spoke.

"You're going to have to let that go." Oscar said. "He may not be the enemy, but with this? He's on the other side of the line. He is not with us. He'd stop us with the chance."

Connie didn't answer, just looked over to Daryl again.

He tapped her again.

Connie faced him again.

"You getting me?"

'I get you.' She signed back.

"This is easier being that he's the only one in that…circle you're close to. End it. We get this done. We may be shunned, but they won't kick us out. We'll be safe. And she'll be dead. It's the best way this ends."

Connie drank her punch, setting it on the windowsill. 'I get you, Oscar.'

Aaron approached with Rosita and others, Daryl was with them.

Aaron began, "You're on that wagon to Hilltop tomorrow, right?"

Connie nodded.

"You think that's a good idea?" Daryl spoke and signed as much of it as he could, eyeing her curiously.

"We could postpone it." Aaron said. "You're all injured. It wouldn't hurt to stay a day or two. Might even be safer with the skins lurking about."

Connie took her trusty notepad from her pocket and quickly scribbled in a response.

[It's fine. I want to go.]

"Alright, see you bright and early." Aaron said, and he and his group dispersed.

She noticed only after a second that Daryl was nowhere to be found. He'd just been there.

'I'll be back.' She signed to Oscar before she left Aaron's house.

It was dark out and the air was cool on her skin. She found Daryl leaning against one of the pillars that stood at either side of the house's front steps.

He was under the spill of the porchlight.

He was smoking a cigarette. When she stepped down onto the ground and he'd noticed her presence, he took his cigarette from his mouth.

"What are you planning?"

Connie scrunched her face in genuine confusion—what did he know?

'What?'

He took another drag before he put it out on the wooden pillar. "You wouldn't leave. You wouldn't move Kelly and Magna in their condition. What's in Hilltop? What's the plan?"

She had no intention of lying. Not to him. Never to him.

Not sure if he could decipher her next set of words, she took her notepad out and wrote.

[She hurt my sister.]

Daryl shook his head. Now, he looked upset. "Nah, you know better than this. Look what happened to you, what happened to your family because of stupid shit like this."

She shook her head, scribbling furiously.

[I won't be stupid about this. You know me.]

He still didn't appear convinced. "You figure all this with your pal Oscar?" He gestured toward the house.

She gave him a look.

He sighed deeply. "I ain't gonna stop you. But you can't do this."

'I understand.' She signed.

Then, he moved forward, and for a moment, her heart lurched. He used his knuckles to brush at her head. She sucked in a breath of pain. Her stitches had been bleeding. He brushed the blood he'd cleaned over his sleeve.

She gave him a faint smile. She didn't like it when he was upset, and especially not as a result of something she did.

Daryl squeezed her shoulder and trudged away.

When he was gone, she felt a tap on her shoulder. When she turned, Oscar was standing there and frowning.

'That's ending it?'

She didn't respond.


	3. Honest, Trust, Sincerity

_**CONNIE** _

The pain was even worse the next day. Connie could barely walk without it shooting up her thighs and ankles. Her head throbbed as well.

Now, she was in the infirmary.

A meeting.

Magna was awake in bed, Kelly as well – who hadn’t spoken a word. Yumiko stood with her arms crossed, pacing the room.

Oscar stood beside Connie.

“‘We all know the plan.’” Oscar signed as he spoke. “‘The able ones…we break off as soon as we hit Hilltop. And we take the route the whisperer Mary told the group.’”

“We leave in a few hours.” Yumiko faced Connie. “You get Daryl to back off or this is all over.”

‘Is that really necessary?’ Connie expressed. ‘He isn’t going to stop us.’

Yumiko rose a brow. “You don’t think the first chance he gets he isn’t going to tell Carol?”

Truth was, she wasn’t sure.

Outside, she was taking a breath. She felt trapped. One side of her life telling her to do one thing, the other side telling her to do another. When she looked up, she saw that Daryl had his crossbow strapped across his chest and was heading out of the Alexandrian gates.

Slingshot at her hip and opportunity in mind, she hurried down the way after him.

* * *

_**DARYL** _

Daryl hadn’t noticed Connie was behind him until she tapped him, and he was surprised.

He couldn’t help his lingering look—her curls were freed from their band and drooped down her neck, dark and shiny and little hooped silver earrings were in her ears. The sun shone down on the spill of freckles over her nose – which was all angles and fleshy.

‘Are you hunting?’ He trained his eyes on her hands to catch what she signed and was impressed at how much he understood.

Daryl nodded and headed forward, unstrapping his crossbow.

She tapped his arm, but he didn’t look.

He hadn’t been paying attention to what she was doing at his side, but now she scanned the area and then blocked his way, holding a note on her chest.

[Don’t be upset.]

“Don’t get yourself killed.” He moved past her. He hated it – what she was doing. Even worse that her group was encouraging her to do it.

He squinted at the appearance of the old cabin. One of the Alexandrians Rufus had been too hostile to live in Alexandria and so he was moved into the cabin outside the gates.

What made Daryl curious was that it looked abandoned.

Out of nowhere, a walker made itself known. The walker was a splash of color. In a frizzy rainbow wig and a dim and dirtied colorful suit. A red round nose was bound on its face. Daryl stumbled backward mostly in surprise and tripped.

Connie dispatched the walker quickly with her slingshot – using something of the earth, a rock, he guessed.

He was momentarily shaken – mostly because Rufus was supposed to keep the area free of walkers.

But Connie was laughing. She leaned on her knees to steady herself. He’d never heard her laugh before – it was a hearty laugh, mostly breathy noises with little bits of her voice. It was one of those rare moments that he got to hear her.

“This shit ain’t funny.” Daryl got to his feet.

‘Laughter is the best medicine.’ Connie signed, calming herself. ‘I’ve heard.’

“It brings walkers.”

‘You mean clowns?’ He hated that he understood it.

Daryl scoffed. “Come on.”

They headed toward the cabin. The front porch was tidy and there were no walkers around it beside the dead clown. Inside, the place was tidy and sheeny – almost like a house inside Alexandria. They’d been looking around for a long time before Daryl found the note on the kitchen counter.

THERE’S A WHOLE WORLD OUT THERE. I’VE GONE TO SEE IT – R.

Daryl showed Connie the note. She came over and took it, brushing dark shiny curls behind her ear; thick feathery brows bunched over her eyes.

The movement did something to him – he had to look away and feign interest in something else on the counter.

He heard scribbling on something and faced her.

Connie had been writing on the back of Rufus’ note.

She turned it to him: [My group is urging me to let you go. They think you’re going to screw it all up.]

He took a moment to read, and then looked at her. “What you think about that?”

Connie only shrugged and then signed: ‘The only thing I know is that I’m going after Alpha.’

Daryl nodded in disappointment. “Then get this shit over with. What’s stopping you?”

For the first time, he couldn’t read her.

Connie set the paper down. ‘This cabin is nice.’ She signed, eyes wandering – she was doing that strange thing she did when she was uncomfortable, pursing her lips and such. ‘What do you think the council will do with it?’

Connie went to the other side of the cabin where the twin bed was. It looked comfortable – fit with dim sheets and thick comforters and pillows. Connie picked up the book that was sitting on it.

When she looked at him to show him the book, he’d walked over. “That what this is?” He took the book and set it on the bedside table, then backed up to give her personal space. “That why you came out here? To let me go? Just do it. Be done with it.”

Connie looked annoyed. ‘Do you think it’s that easy?’

“Must be. You got it all figured out, huh?”

Before she could respond, a thunderous crack sounded through the atmosphere and lightening flashed white outside the windows. Rain showered outside in mere seconds.

Daryl went to the window. He recognized it all too well – the wind picking up.

“Damn it.” He faced her. ‘A storm.’

* * *

_**CONNIE** _

A storm, he’d signed. It meant they wouldn’t be able to leave the cabin for a while. She sat on the cabin bed reading the book she’d found – she was on page 100, that’s how long she’d been reading – and Daryl was perched up on the counter in the kitchen, smoking a cigarette.

Connie set the book down, marking her place, and entered the kitchen.

Daryl looked at her from the corner of his eye as she entered.

She fiddled with her hands. ‘Have you told Carol?’

Daryl only shook his head no, taking another drag.

“You seen Kelly?” He asked.

‘Of course.’

“Awake, I mean.”

Connie thought about it and realized she hadn’t. ‘No. I’ve been busy.’

“She’s got those prosthetic legs.” Daryl told her. “She’s been doing real well with ‘em. You know that?”

She didn’t know that. Was he trying to make a point? That she’s been so focused on revenge that she didn’t notice?

‘That doesn’t make up for her fingers. Or her trauma.’ Connie snapped back.

Daryl slid off the counter. “Don’t nothing make up for shit. I’m just telling you about her. What she’s been doing while you were in the cave.”

Before she could respond or react, a shot cracked through the cabin. Daryl ducked immediately, pulling her with him. Huddled by cabinet doors, he steadied his crossbow. They could make out shadows by the windows of the cabin.

He fired an arrow through a half-opened window and took one of the guys out, grabbed her hand and yanked her after him. They ducked out into pouring rain. There were fallen trees from the storm and the rain was hard, spraying them. The other guy fired off a shot just as Daryl did. Daryl caught him in the chest, but caught a bullet at the shoulder. He was rocked backward instantly – on his back, eyes shut.

A shock went through her when she saw all the blood bloom from his shoulder. She panicked – he wasn’t moving at all. First, she yanked off her vest and bunched it up to press against his wound. Then, she hurriedly collected his arrows from the men, and their guns as well.

Then she attempted to lug Daryl up the hilly area and back to Alexandria, but the gunshots had attracted walkers. She dispatched them with her slingshot, panicking the entire time.

There was no making it back in the storm while he was unconscious and certainly not with the flying objects – bins and such. She dragged him, with all her strength, back inside the cabin. She locked the door behind them. She pressed the vest deeper into his wound.

It was dark when the rain had stopped, and the storm had subsided. Daryl blinked awake, wincing, as he assessed his wounds and whatnot.

“Graze.” He mumbled, but she caught it.

‘I won’t do it. I won’t go after her.’ She signed at random.

Daryl – in his Daryl way – gave her a look; one that could be designated as soft.

They got back to Alexandria and alerted its leaders. They’d sent out a group and found the cabin to be clear of any people.

The venture to Hilltop was delayed due to damage from the storm. But she’d already made up her mind, so she wasn’t in any rush to leave – she wasn’t going to do it. The idea, or even the moment that she’d believed it, of losing Daryl had shocked her straight.

Risking time with family for a chance of satisfaction after revenge? It wasn’t her. She’d been blinded and hurt. And not just for her family. For the cave, her starvation, her endless thoughts of hurting the whisperers and Alpha in there. Letting it go was surprisingly easy – especially with so much to lose.

Aaron had helped get Daryl to his lodgings. And she went to a guest house and cleaned herself. Late in the night, she found Daryl in his room in Michonne’s house – in the basement. She stood on the stairs and knocked on the wall to alert him and then headed down into the area.

Daryl’s room was exactly what she expected his room to look like. He had his arrows situated in one corner of the room, a desk with an array of interesting things. There was the fat ASL book on it, on its face, opened on specific pages.

Daryl was on the couch, his arm bandaged, rubbing dog’s brown mane. Connie nodded upon entrance and he gave a head incline. She went to the desk and picked up the sign language dictionary. The pages he’d been last reading were on signs like HONEST, TRUST, SINCERITY.

She set it down and looked at him. ‘I was worried.’

He let dog off him. “That why you told me that you wouldn’t do it? You changing your mind now?” He made sure she could read his lips before he stood and went to the other side of the room to grab his shirt off a coat hook.

She clasped her fingers, ‘No.’ to his face. Then followed with, ‘I’m not doing it.’

He nodded genuinely for a moment, regarding her. “Good.”

He hissed, she guessed, in pain – as she could see it in his expression – as he attempted to throw one half of the button-up shirt with his injured arm and she was across the room in an instant, gripping the end of the shirt in hand.

She saw his mouth move and she guessed he was saying something along the lines of: _I got it. I can do it._

She ignored that and slipped the shirt up his arm. In doing so, made that his shoulders were wide, arms thick and muscled. Connie sucked in a breath.

She’d been working on the other arm, had been pulling the sleeve up, when she’d gotten too close – close enough that his dark and dangling hair brushed up against her face.

Its tickle made her shiver and her heartbeat went to her ears.

She resisted it, stepping back a little, and started on his buttons. She’d clasped the first three when he tapped her arm.

She looked at him.

“I got it.” He said.

Like a spell, it came over her. She didn’t release the shirt from between her grips despite his words. She buttoned two more, breath steadied and eyes low, before she drew in. Gentle at first, allowing a moment between them, she let her lips envelop his at a torturously measured pace. He didn’t resist. She enswathed into him, all the tilts and reclines, to grasp him in entirety. His beard prickled her skin as she slipped her hands over his shoulders.

It had been a while since she’d done it – a while since the thought even entered her mind.

Despite his response – his mouth moving with hers – when she drew back, she could feel it – his coldness. She steadied her hands on his shoulders, stabling her breathing.

Daryl lowered his face, letting his hair fall into his eyes. A method of avoidance, she assumed.

He began buttoning the top button of his shirt – the one she’d missed – inclining his head. “Thanks.”

It didn’t need more words or signs. She thumbed his shoulder and gave him a small smile – not sure what it was she meant to say with it – and left him in his silence.

Outside, the air was crisp. A shadow down the road alerted her with a gesture of hand. Connie followed until she reached Alexandria’s graveyard and found Kelly, walking on her prosthetics – amazing they were even found in the state of the world.

‘We’re not going with the plan,’ Connie signed, ‘it’s risky and not worth it.’

Kelly looked to her. ‘We? I’m not stopping. She’s taken too much. It’s not worth it? It’s worth everything.’ She began to sign, but Kelly brushed past her and left.


End file.
